


lights pass overhead (while we all pretend to sleep)

by wordofgab (Gabracadabra)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Radio Host AU, a joy to write, lots of banter and dialogue, rando-that-insults-you-over-the-radio to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabracadabra/pseuds/wordofgab
Summary: From the prompt "I run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs" but with a breddy twist~A little classical radio host AU
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	lights pass overhead (while we all pretend to sleep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsvtrying (eveofjune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveofjune/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not listen to late night classical music radio and have exactly zero idea for how radio hosts do proper professional work. I am desperately hoping that is not why you are here. This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy~ (And if you recognize where the title is from I will love you forever)

Music seemed to flow through the air, strong and sweet. Both harmonious chords and dissonant melodies danced into Eddy’s ears, the man spinning in his chair, careful not to hit the array of buttons in front of him as he began air conducting the symphony in the privacy of his small recording booth.

  
Eddy had been the host for the night slot of the local classical music radio station for half a year now, and found himself enjoying it far more than he expected. He didn’t think spending the graveyard shift in an empty office building would be anything other than creepy and lonely, and he had to admit, it was so in the beginning. But there were worse things, after all, the pay was good enough to give him a bit of spending money in addition to his teaching gig, the time perfectly fit his night owl tendencies, and he’s  _ sure _ his neighbors appreciated that he practiced in the studio and not the thin-walled apartment complex he shared with who knows how many people.

He also appreciated that the only people who tuned in were those that kept the classical music radio on by accident as they fell asleep, and office workers burning the midnight oil. The phone lines were pretty much dead by that time of the night, no one eagerly waiting for a shoutout or barraging him with requests, so Eddy felt free to play whatever he wanted.

Well, until a month ago that is.

The music came to an end as Eddy let it fade into silence, allowing the last note to settle for a bit as he made room for the applause of an imaginary audience.

“And once again, that was Sibelius Symphony no. 7, one of my all time favorites. And would you look at that, we have a caller request this evening, you’re on ai—”

“Post-romantic again, Eddy? Where’s the variety, man?”

Right on schedule.

It’s been a month since he began getting calls on his show, well, one specific caller, every single time. Truth be told, when he first called into the show at the dead of the night, Eddy nearly fell off his chair. He could barely find the right button to put the speakerphone on resulting in a whole 20 seconds of dead air as he fiddled with the sound board in front of him, only to accept the call and be told he was basic for his choice of Vaughn Williams’ 5th symphony, or what the caller referred to as ‘boring post-modern symphonic fluff.’ He’d been so flustered at the man’s confident insult that he let the statement sit for another 10 seconds of silence before the caller requested that he ‘play something more original’ immediately followed by ‘Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, you know, with the dun-dun-dun-dun’. Eddy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and he sure as hell wasn’t given the step by step of rejecting listener requests, so he squeaked out a “Right, uh, here’s Beethoven’s fifth.” and proceeded to have a crisis all throughout the first movement.

After the entire symphony came to a close, his show was at its end and he wrote off the whole incident as a one-time phenomenon, never to be experienced again. Just some bored guy that wanted to harass a night shift radio host, or something to that effect.

It  _ really  _ caught him off guard then, when the same thing happened the very next day, at the exact same time, with the exact same caller, right at the end of what Eddy considered a total masterpiece. After being called a ‘total sap’ for playing ‘ballerina nonsense’, Eddy finally realized the guy was completely trolling as he requested Flight of the Bumblebee to be played next. Eddy put his headphones aside as Rimsky-Korsakov filled the airwaves, letting himself chuckle a bit, and subconsciously plan out some sort of witty retort for the next time his mystery caller appeared. If he ever did call again that is.

After the third time, he quickly realized that this guy was very much sticking around, and after the first week of tripping over his words, he finally had the mind to talk back, bantering with his faceless critic at 1 am, mirth and delight almost comically clear in the other man’s voice as he got a reply. Since then, he almost looked forward to hearing his lone stranger’s snarky comments every night, at least it was some kind of interaction that wasn’t small talk with his bored students or the nagging of his supervisors. He’s grown fond of the man’s remarks, almost respecting how someone could be so rude in such an inoffensive way.

Which brings them to today’s insult of Eddy’s choice of symphony, which Eddy had been looking forward to with delight.

“Ah what can I say, waiting for your calls puts me in a post-romantic  _ mood _ .”

His banter got better with time, switching between light, radio-appropriate insults and feigning ignorance. Recently, some light flirting had been thrown into the mix, which was not all that well-conceived, but given the fact that no one had given him any sort of reprimand for his job so far and the fact that the first time he did it, his caller sputtered for a full second trying to figure out how to reply, he considered it a winning strategy.

“Ha! I  _ am _ in the mood for romance now that you mention it.”

“Oh? Some Korngold for your purebred ears?”

“Nonsense! I only listen to the absolute classics, the best of them all–Pachelbel’s D.”

Eddy snorted at that, barely moving away from the microphone as he heard the absolute smugness in the other’s voice.

“You mean his Canon in D?”

“Of course, what else would it be, you dirty man?”

Eddy was glad that his show was entirely audio, otherwise his eye roll would get him into immense amounts of trouble. Nonetheless, he pulled up the offending recording–the shortest one he could find just so he could spare himself and the rest of his poor listeners–and let the intro play.

“ _ Sure, _ why not. For all those  _ romantics _ that haven’t been invited to a wedding in a while, and need a reminder of the best cello part in existence, here is Pachelbel’s Canon in D.”

Thus ended yet another call, his skin still tingling as he smiled to himself a little, the giddy feeling of yet another strange but oddly satisfying exchange buzzing under his skin. In the times he’s listened to the caller’s remarks, he learned that he did actually know classical repertoire quite well, citing musical history and theory in sharp quips. It was exciting in a strange way, knowing a fellow classical music nerd somewhere avidly listened to his show for one reason or another–even if he asked for the most overplayed pieces over and over again. He let the notes of the canon finish as he polished off another cup of coffee.

“And that was Canon in D by the baroque legend himself, Johann Pachabel. I’m sorry to say that marks the end of today’s show, courtesy of our very special caller. Wishing you all sweet dreams and good music. Good night.”

A short Mozart melody started playing, the familiar notes ringing through Eddy’s headphones to signal the end of the show as he sat back in his seat, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at the giant digital clock over his sound board.

_ 2:04 AM _

His eyebrows furrowed together, mentally calculating whether he had time for a quick practice session before he needed to go home, get some sleep, and be up in time for his 2 pm violin tutoring session. Knowing he was tasked with locking up the office anyway, and that the next shift wouldn’t be until six, he brought out his violin, resolving to practice for just an hour before heading home.

He had started on the arpeggios of his Bach when the phone began to ring.

This was very much not normal, and if he hadn’t been so desensitized to being alone in the studio at ungodly hours of the morning, he would find it a little creepy. His morning brain resolved that it must be his supervisor checking in on him again to ‘not leave the bathroom lights on, it costs the building money’ after  _ one incident, one! _ And so Eddy picked the phone.

What followed was perhaps the most unexpected and bizarre conversation he’d ever had.

“Hello?”

“Brett.”

“Uh, no this is Eddy?”

“No, I know that,  _ my _ name is Brett. You never ask when you take my calls so I figured that I’d introduce myself, hi!”

After a moment of extreme confusion and mild panic, the voice began to sound more and more familiar until it finally clicked in his head.

“You’re the caller!” In hindsight, the declaration did not need to be shouted out as some sort of revelation, but Eddy’s social skills as of late had been slightly on edge from this night job, and it  _ was _ an acceptable hour for some amount of ridiculousness. Besides, if anything, he wasn’t the one calling up a classical music radio station at ungodly after hours.

“Uh, yes, and you’re really into late-romantic symphonic repertoire.”

“And you request some pretty shit pieces, mate.”

This got a laugh out of the other man, and Eddy noticed how different his voice sounded for the first time. It was definitely the same person, his weeks of hearing it every evening made certain of that, but he sounded...tired? Softer than his usual snarky self. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually play any of it!”

Eddy smiled to himself, putting his violin down as he continued the conversation, odd as it was. His strange caller–no,  _ Brett _ –was animated in his words, saying so much of everything and nothing at all, talking about each piece Eddy played with as much enthusiasm as Eddy felt, letting it slip that he played for the local youth orchestra.

“–You’re the concertmaster?”

“Yeah?”

“And you’ve been requesting either the most ridiculous or most overplayed–”

At that point, Brett had started laughing so mirthfully that Eddy lost his train of thought, instead listening to the sounds the other made.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it! Man, you’d really subject your listeners to all that. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you were legit into classical music the first time I called in.”

“Really? Did the ‘pretentious neo-classical’ pieces not give it away?”

“You gave off mixed signals when you played flight of the bumblebee without hesitation.”

“You’re quite the snob, huh?”

“You’re a bit of a pushover.”

“Hey!”

The conversation went on like this for quite some time, sometimes teasing, sometimes talking mindlessly about the music, the most random topics and ideas coming to mind. Perhaps if Eddy spared a thought to how easy it was to talk to this other man, how quick he was to engage him and keep the conversation going despite being complete strangers, he wouldn’t have been quite so carefree. But Brett was fun to talk to, and was much nicer off air, so Eddy didn’t mind.

“Oh, it’s getting late, I should be locking up.”

“Oh.”

The note of disappointment in his voice was evident, and so what if that caused a stir in Eddy’s chest? 

“Right, alright, would you–” a soft gulp from the other line came through before Brett continued, “–would you like to grab some coffee?”

*

Eddy needed to seriously reconsider what he thought was normal social behaviour, as surely meeting up with a mysterious stranger in a 24-hour diner at inhumane hours of the morning was  _ not _ it. It seemed as though upholding normal behaviour wasn’t much of a factor in the excitement of meeting his mystery critic–no,  _ Brett _ was his name–however. It was simpler that way, impulsive decision-making promoted good health as far as he was concerned, seeing as it made his heart react as though he were sprinting.

He sat in a booth, slightly unnaturally as he realized this is the first time he had been in this diner despite it being across from his studio. His awkward shivering contrasted the coffee cup in his hand, scalding hot, grounding him as he waited.

Then.

“Eddy?”

It’s incredible how a familiar voice could feel so new. Eddy turned towards him, coming face to face with a man who looked to be his own age, wide, friendly eyes behind rounded glasses and a nice smile.

Okay, not some kind of buff 50 year old psychopath. Good.

“I really hope you’re Eddy and this is the right place, because I don’t want anyone to think I make a habit out of harassing strangers at 3 am.”

A smile spread across Eddy’s own face as he chuckled, rising from his own seat and holding his hand out. He was much taller than the other man. Somehow that felt good to know.

“That’s me, nice to meet you Brett.” He wasn’t sure if it was the early morning haze that made him see things, but a blush seemed to spread over Brett’s cheeks as he looked up at him, the redness reaching the tips of his ears as their hands met and,  _ oh. _

He was very cute.

“So do you make a habit out of meeting up with your adoring fan base or am I special?” the confident edge to his voice alongside his shy flush was giving Eddy whiplash. He laughed again because what is there to do when the man you’ve been talking to over the radio, who turns out to be quite attractive, flirts with you at an hour like this? 

“Well normally I’d be going to bed, but I suppose this is an exception.”

Brett got a funny look on his face, his eyes lighting up with mischief as soon as the words left his lips.

“Now normally I’d ask you to buy me a drink before you start bringing up beds,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively as Eddy nearly choked on his cup, “but at this hour, the only drink I’ll accept is a coffee.”

“That’s not what I–Are you always this forward with people you insult over the radio?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

*

_ Six Months Later _

“And that was Mahler’s Symphony no. 7, an underrated must-listen! Hoping you’re all doing well this evening. It looks like we have a caller, right on time–”

Eddy smiled at the blinking red light over his phone line, knowing exactly the voice on the other end. Brett had continued their arrangement, calling into the show with a biting quip and a ridiculous request nearly every night. This time around however, he wasn’t in his own flat making the calls, but in Eddy’s bed, waiting for the other to return for the evening so they could cuddle together into the night.

Eddy learned that the other man had trouble sleeping, how he would turn on the radio to listen to pieces, musical ideas for orchestra, and how ever since he first heard Eddy’s voice, he’d sleep better by the show’s end. They kept up the banter on air, his appearances being Eddy’s personal favorite segment of the night, but harsh words were exchanged for sweet touches by the night’s end, and it felt oddly like home each passing day.

It wasn’t quite ideal, Eddy still arriving back at nearly four in the morning each day while Brett needed to leave by ten to get to rehearsal. Even so, the early mornings and late afternoons they had together became everything they could hope for, cherishing the sound of each other’s voices pressed against skin, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

“You’re on air, what’d you like to hear?”

“Actually, I’m hoping to dedicate a piece.”

“Oh?” Eddy asked, his curiosity peeking into his voice as he noted the nervous tone in Brett’s. “Well go right ahead.”

“Bach Violin Sonata no. 2, Andante. For the one whose voice soothes my thoughts and warms my evenings.”

  
A smile crept up on Eddy’s face at the unexpected sweetness of the words, imagining the blush that must be over Brett’s cheeks as he spoke. He found the loveliest recording he could think of and put it on, sitting back to let the gorgeous music wash over him.

As the last note played, he closed his show as per usual, his voice brimming with softness and emotion. Normally he would spend a little bit of time to practice before heading back, but at this moment he couldn’t conceive of being anywhere other than in Brett’s arms.

The notes of the sonata played and replayed in his head as he closed the office, the notes and chords dancing on the tips of his fingers and his ears as he made his way out of the building.

Except, the music was in fact getting louder in his ear, and didn’t sound quite like the recording he had just played. It was gentler, mellowed and sweet. As he made his way to the parking lot, he immediately latched onto a figure under the streetlight, playing the sweetest rendition of the Bach Andante that he had ever heard.

He walked towards the figure, who glanced his way and was hit with a moment of surprise before shaking it off and continuing the piece, straightening his back and playing with even more passion than before, now that his audience had arrived.

Watching Brett play was an experience like no other. He would catch a few practice sessions and rehearsals now and then, but to be graced with a concert such as this was otherworldly. The music was unlike the immaculate recordings of the studio, lacking the acoustics and precision, yet each note was so carefully placed, so beautifully presented that he could not imagine a sound more divine.

As the piece ended, he looked up at Eddy, a sheepish smile over his face as the lamp light barely illuminated his blushed skin.

“Sorry I, uh, thought you’d practice for a bit before heading out. Didn’t think my little rehearsal would end up being the performance.”

“Did you wait out here the whole time?”

Brett’s blush came around to his ears as Eddy stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him and placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Maybe I missed you. Just a little.”

Eddy held him even closer, two figures in the dead of night, savoring the warmth of his body intertwined with his, as he began to sway.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Brett’s ear, “let’s go home.”

They made their way back to Eddy’s flat, a million words exchanged in every look, in every touch as they held each other under the covers. And though sleep did not come so easily to the two, the sound of slowing breaths and gentle sighs banished the loneliness of the evening.

Perhaps their togetherness was strange, a trick of the late nights and early mornings where they found each other, but in the privacy of their embrace, who could say it wasn’t meant to be?

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think! I'm also on twitter @gabbybangg if you ever feel the urge to scream over there~


End file.
